Immortal
by that is secret
Summary: A series of takes on immortality. . . Arwen up.
1. Immortal Sorrow: Elrond

A/N: Thanks go to the reviewers, who pointed out certain inaccuracies within this little fic and also gave their opinions. I appreciate it very much.  
  
  
  
You weren't always this way. There was a time when you weren't the calm elf- lord. When you weren't so collected, when you let your emotions flow. A time when you when you weren't so cold.  
  
But times change, don't they? You were a young thing then, half-elf and half-man, and you accepted both sides. Now you can't live with yourself. You curse yourself everyday, because you are counted among the elves. You have immortality. Yet you want nothing more than to die.  
  
You've lost so much. First your parents. You handled it. It was difficult, but you did it. It was the barest consolance, to know that at least they were not dead. Then Elros chose the way of men while you chose the way of elves. And it hurt. You've never gotten over that. You've always felt that he betrayed you, and you've always felt that you betrayed him.  
  
Next came Celebrian and Gil-galad. Immortal, yet. . . gone. The mother of your children, tortured by orcs. None of your healing powers could take away her pain. She faded and went to Valinor. And though you are with her now, it could never be the same. The sight of her face brings you such anguish. And Gil-galad; your idol, your teacher, your friend. Gone. Taken away from you. For the rest of time, they are held away from you. Thus, forever became hell to you.  
  
And then there was the one who left you. Your daughter - your evening star. She chose love and mortality. You could not blame her - wouldn't you do the same thing for love? You would do it gladly! A second of love would be better than this forever of pain. Deep down you wish you could have changed your decision, so long ago; but you made your choice. You chose immortality. And how you've paid.  
  
Yes, there have been times in your life when you've been happy you chose what you did. But the sadness is there. You feel it every day. The hurt of your losses, your memories. What was tragic you remember with pain. What was beautiful brings you only longing, regret, and sorrow. The wistfulness lives in your eyes.  
  
Here you are, in the Blessed Realm. Long ago you left Middle-earth. You crossed the seas to come to Eldamar. You hoped that you would find peace here. That the tales of the Blessed Realm would not be just tales any more, but true. You should never have left Middle-earth. This bright place only makes you darker. You're shattering inside, you know. Falling to pieces. Your sons look at you with worry. They wonder what is wrong with their father. But how can they understand? How can anyone understand? Oh, all the elves know what it is like to carry the burden of immortality. But what are their losses, compared to yours? What are their memories, compared to yours?  
  
What is their knowledge of regret, compared to yours? You could have chosen the way out. You chose life. And for the rest of your life, you'll wish you'd chosen differently. But you could never commit suicide, and there is no other way to die in the Blessed Realm. You'll live but you'll be dead at heart. For all of eternity, it will be this way. Yours is a neverending death. 


	2. Immortal Betrayal: Saruman

A/N: I wrote "Immortal Sorrow" for Elrond a while ago, and found it again while looking through files on my computer. I decided to continue it as a series of angsty vignettes. Saruman was the next to come to mind, and therefore here is his piece.   
  
  
  
How could you, Saruman?  
  
How?  
  
When did you - the wisest of the wise - abandon reason for madness? And why? What made you do it?   
  
You have been ensnared. You have become impatient and arrogant. Your pride makes you weak, and yet you nurture and relish that weakness. And you do it with eyes of ice, eyes cold and impassable like the peak of Caradhras. You say your eyes see far; you say they see the very will of Sauron. But you say wrong, for none can contend with his will. Even your frozen eyes will be melted by his flame. You cannot break him, Saruman, you cannot break him.  
  
But you have broken hearts. You broke the hearts of those that believed in you. You betrayed them. You tore their secrets from their chests, tore their hope and trust and faith away, and you sold it to Mordor.  
  
Why? You know very well that Sauron does not share power. If you obtain the Ring, his eye will fix upon Isengard. He will come for you, and you will regret your betrayal.   
  
For no one will stand with you then. No wizard, no elf, no man or dwarf, no hobbit. Even your army will desert you, foul and disloyal creatures that they are. He will come for you, and you will be laid bare before him. What he will do to you, none knows; but you can be assured that it will be an eternity of pain. Your soul is immortal, O mighty Istari, and your betrayal will last forever.  
  
You cannot escape it. You have broken with the light, and must enter the dark. But you enter alone, alone into that cold sharp flame that is broken trust. None will help you now.  
  
  
  
A/N: So, who should come next? Tell me, m'dears. ^_^ 


	3. Immortal Beauty: Arwen

Ah, Arwen. How lovely you are, even as you grow old. You were not meant to die, but fate and yourself have deemed it so. And, perhaps, your mortality makes you all the lovelier.  
  
The day you entered this world was a blessed one; a girl-child, born to Elrond Half-elven and Celebrian, daughter of Galadriel! A daughter to complement the sons! The wind whispered its praise, and stars fell from the sky in their joy.   
  
You grew, and from a newborn baby you become a child; from a child, you become a woman. The minstrels sang of your beauty, and named you the Even-star. So it was that you will always be connected to the stars. Does it not make sense? Your ancestors ride the sky, Earendil in his ship that is now made of space.   
  
And does it not make sense, that you should repeat your ancestors' lives? They liken you to Luthien of old, and rightfully so. An elf-woman, more beautiful than any other living being. . . dark of hair and light of skin, with feather-weight feet and a dancing heart. Do they describe Luthien, or do they describe Arwen? One can only know by the name of the song. For you too fell in love with a mortal man, and you too took the chance of losing him. A Silmaril or the One Ring - what is the difference? Elven-made objects, powerful and strong and dangerous in their beauty; there is no difference.   
  
Once again the sun smiled upon you - you did not lose your mortal. He is alive, and he is now a king. You joined him as his queen, and you live with him even now. Did not Luthien and Beren live out their days, happy and peaceful as do you?   
  
Ah, but ashes must become ashes, and dust needs become dust. He will die, and you will die too; as Luthien died so that she would not live without her lover. It shows upon your beautiful face, this mortality. You seem to glow, as if your body was melting away, leaving only your beautiful soul. Evanescent, like star-spray. . . you will forever be the Even-star. Your body will be gone, but you shall not really die. No, you will live on. . .   
  
The songs the minstrels sing of you will carry your name and beauty to the end of the world. They will never forget the elf who loved a man; nay, even as Luthien is not forgotten. Perhaps one day your stories will be melded, and you and Luthien shall be remembered as one. Only time can tell, but oh Arwen, your death does not really last forever. They will remember you until the end of days. 


End file.
